Chapter 4 - THE ULTIMATUM ON THE CLIFFSIDE EDGE"Burn the estate?" Nathaniel took another slow step forward, his eyes locked onto the heavy leather briefcase in her arms. "You think you have any leverage left, Vivian? The police are upstairs. The security footage is in the hands of the FBI. Your game is over."
"Is it?" Vivian’s lips curled into a terrifying, unhinged smile. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, metallic remote control with a blinking red LED light. "You might want to check the frequency on this before you take another step, my sweet husband."
Nathaniel froze. His gaze dropped to the remote in her trembling hand. "What did you do?"
"Before I came downstairs to push your precious mother down the stairs, I had a little chat with our domestic staff—specifically the new groundskeeper, who happens to owe me a very large favor," Vivian taunted, her voice dripping with venom. "I planted industrial-grade thermite charges along the foundational pillars of the East Wing and the main library. One click of this button, and the Hawthorne family legacy goes up in a literal ball of fire, taking all your financial records, your historical artifacts, and little Chloe’s bedroom right along with it."
Nathaniel’s blood ran cold. He knew she wasn't bluffing. Vivian was a sociopath of the highest order; she would burn the world down to save her own skin.
"You're insane," Nathaniel breathed.
"I'm surviving!" Vivian screamed, tears finally breaking through her manic makeup. "You made me a prisoner in this gilded cage, Nathaniel! You and your mother treated me like a trophy wife to be displayed at charity galas and locked away when I asked questions about the family trust! I earned every single penny in this bag!"
"By murdering an innocent old woman?"
"She wasn't innocent!" Vivian shrieked. "Eleanor knew everything! She knew about my past in Chicago, she knew about the debts, and she was going to throw me to the wolves with nothing! She deserved to fall!"
As Vivian yelled, a shadow moved silently behind her out of the darkness of the lower tunnel.
It was Detective Miller, having bypassed the upper barricade and navigated the lower drainage pipes to flank her position. He held his service weapon raised, his finger resting lightly on the trigger.
"Drop the remote, Mrs. Hawthorne," Miller's voice cut through the cavern like a gunshot.
Vivian gasped, her head whipping around. In her blind panic, her thumb twitched violently against the detonator button.
BEEP.
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The red light turned solid crimson.
"No!" Nathaniel lunged forward across the stone floor with the speed of a striking panther, tackling Vivian hard to the ground just as a muffled, thunderous explosion shook the earth beneath their feet.
